The Salt On My Lips Is An Enzyme
by rayychel infinity
Summary: "CanIrimyou?" Kurt gets out in a rush of breath, digging his nails into his thigh as he exhales and holds his breath. So maybe that wasn't how it was supposed to go, but it'd have to do.


**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own _Glee_, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title from "But The NUNS Are Watching..." By I Set My Friends On Fire.  
>Warnings are: rimming, fingering, slight language.<p>

Reviewers, I really love you. Words do not express my feelings.

**xxxxXxxxx**

"Blaine, do you trust me?"

"Seriously? _That's_ what you're asking me?"

It's a lazy Saturday; Burt and Carole are working until late and Finn is over at Puck's with Artie. Blaine had driven from Westerville earlier that morning to take Kurt out for breakfast, and despite Kurt's protests against anything salty or smothered in too-sweet syrup, they'd driven to the nearest IHOP a little after nine, where Blaine ordered a plate of blueberry crepes and proceeded to lovingly feed them to Kurt, forkful by romantic forkful.

And maybe the dish was a little too Americanized, the batter a little heavy and the thickness of the crepe all wrong, the filling a little too sweet and overbearing, but when Kurt looked at Blaine and saw the same smitten look he'd had before and after "I love you," he could probably tolerate the calories and taste bud overload. Blaine had coffee and Kurt settled for hot tea.

They held hands the entire time.

Now it's the middle of the afternoon and the temperature's spiked to its fullest, hovering somewhere in the vicinity of ninety-six degrees. It's too hot to lounge outside, even in the shade, and the cicadas are bordering on deafening. For now they've settled inside the house, camping up in Kurt's room with the fan on high and magazines spread out across his duvet. Kurt arches an eyebrow in Blaine's direction and swivels away from his computer screen where he's been reading gossip columns for the better part of an hour.

Blaine is sprawled out on the bed, jeans rolled up to mid-calf. In front of him is some football magazine Kurt doesn't recognize or even care to recognize and this month's _Elle_, which Kurt will never truly understand Blaine's obsession with. Currently they're both locked in a stare-down, Blaine looking at him like Kurt should already know the answer to the question and Kurt returning the look with _this is big stuff_ tacked on the end.

"I'm serious," he says, uncrossing his legs and letting his bare foot rest on the cool plastic leg of the chair. "I need to know if you trust me."

Blaine rolls his eyes and flips a page, pursing his lips at something on the newest glossy spread before he sighs and closes the magazine. "I trust you." He pulls himself into a sitting position, pushing the magazines off to the side, and tucks his legs underneath him.

Kurt nods in relief, wondering exactly how he's going to get this next part out. For the better part of the summer they've been getting to know each other, starting from shirtless make outs to under-the-clothes groping. They're both still awkward and shy and sometimes they do mess up, grip a little too tightly or bite down a little too much, and there had been the time when Blaine was giving Kurt his second or third blowjob and had gotten a little too enthusiastic and neglected to cover his teeth properly, and then there was the time in late July when Kurt had fingered Blaine for the first time and didn't use enough lube, and by the stretch of the second finger Blaine was pulling Kurt's hand away, wincing.

Kurt knows that he and Blaine are still just teenagers after all, and teenagers are allowed to fuck up, but he can't tamp down the feeling inside of him that wants only perfection. He wants to make Blaine come apart completely, make him lose his irritatingly suave manner of speaking and reduce him to begging and all those stupid porno noises. He wants Blaine to know how much he cares even though they're not ready for sex yet.

Still, the question Kurt wants to ask is heavy and laden with possibilities. If Blaine says yes it's a huge step in their relationship, and he _wants_ Blaine to say yes almost more than he wants the new line of Louis Vuitton scarves. He'll understand if he doesn't, and besides being a little disappointed nothing will change. He hopes nothing will change.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks, his voice a little distant. "You still with me?"

"CanIrimyou?" Kurt gets out in a rush of breath, digging his nails into his thigh as he exhales and holds his breath. So maybe that wasn't how it was supposed to go, but it'd have to do.

"I—What?"

Oh god, Blaine doesn't know. He doesn't know and there Kurt went again with assuming Blaine was still that confident persona that he'd long since dispelled. He has about as much romantic experience as Kurt, and even though he'd admitted to watching "those movies" on more than one occasion, that did not a sex expert make. His cheeks flush and he wants to run straight for his bathroom and lock the door until he's twenty-five. "Blaine, I'm so sorry. It just kind of came out, and I couldn't stop it..."

"Yes."

Kurt blinks stupidly, mouth still open in mid-apology. "Uh. What?"

Blaine chuckles and rubs at his shoulder like he's just as nervous. "Yes, I want you to rim me." He scrunches up his nose, says, "Ugh, that sounds horribly technical, doesn't it?"

"Horribly technical is fine," Kurt says, already imagining Blaine falling apart under his tongue. "I find jargon like that arousing."

"I'll remember that." Blaine smirks at him, like he doesn't buy it either, but he does sweep the magazines to the floor before spreading his arms and saying, "C'mere." Kurt leaves his computer chair spinning slightly as he scrambles onto his bed and into the middle of Blaine's waiting embrace.

Kissing is their most comfortable area, almost like their medium, and Kurt loves it. He loves how sure he is with the various ways to make Blaine fall apart, like a bite there, a suck here, the swipe of the tongue over that certain patch of skin. He loves the noises Blaine makes, the sharp inhales and exhales through his nose, the little moans and whines when he sucks Kurt's tongue into his mouth.

Today, their kisses are deeper, dirtier, and one of Blaine's hands is an immediate fixture at the back of Kurt's head, the other trailing down Kurt's torso over the thin cotton of his shirt. Kurt shivers and brings a hand of his own to curl around one side of Blaine's neck, fingers lax against the skin as he tilts his head and changes the angles of the kiss, giving him more control as he swipes his tongue across the roof of Blaine's mouth. He still tastes faintly of breakfast, of maple syrup and blueberries and coffee.

When Kurt slides a hand up under Blaine's shirt he brushes fingertips across his abdomen, feeling the muscles flutter underneath his touch. Blaine pulls away just enough to lift his arms over his head and Kurt slides his shirt up and off, tossing it to the floor. Blaine connects their lips messily again, breathing noisy and harsh, gripping Kurt's bicep like it's the tether keeping him grounded in reality.

"Can't wait to taste you," Kurt breathes, bringing a hand down to rub gently across Blaine's lap, eliciting a groan and a small buck of the hips, which Blaine lifts up just enough for Kurt to slide his jeans down and over when they're undone. His boxers follow suit, and while Kurt's too busy kissing down Blaine's neck to notice much he's almost a hundred percent sure that the underwear that now lay tangled in a denim prison were moustache ones. It's cute.

"Kurt," Blaine whines, "why am I naked and you're not?"

"It doesn't matter," Kurt says as he sucks a purple mark onto Blaine's collarbone. "Get on your hands and knees."

Kurt doesn't have a lot of time to appreciate the sight of Blaine's cock, swollen heavy and red between his legs, before he's presented with the new sight of Blaine propping himself up on the bed, legs spread shamelessly wide and head hanging low between his shoulders. Kurt's cock throbs in his jeans as his eyes follow the curves and dips of Blaine's body, from his smooth, muscled back, up and over the curve of his toned ass, down the lean thighs dusted with dark hair.

He feels a blush that's equal amounts arousal and equal amounts embarrassment. This is new, this is a boy spread in a way Kurt's never seen outside of his imagination, and his imagination apparently did not do justice to the real thing. The real thing quivers, breathes, and sometimes shifts uncomfortably, makes a low keening noise, and when Kurt brushes his fingers just above the divide of the ass the real thing jerks and moans.

Kurt kneels behind Blaine, can't resist snaking a hand under his body to rub a thumb against his perineum, roll his balls between nimble fingers and slide his palm over his cock a few times. Blaine pillows his head on his arms and moans, pushing his ass further up into the air when Kurt moves back to strip off his shirt. "Feels so good Kurt," he says, words slightly muffled.

Though Blaine is clearly too blissed-out to be picky about anything, Kurt realizes that the task ahead is a little daunting. It's something neither have done before, that maybe Blaine hadn't even considered, but Kurt wants to do it and wants to make Blaine happy. He gently pulls Blaine's cheeks apart, rubbing a thumb over Blaine's hole and earning a push back and a low groan.

He lowers his head and points his tongue, running it down the divide until he reaches the puckered ring of muscles, hearing Blaine suck in a breath. Before flattening his tongue Kurt pauses to breathe, to listen. Blaine's body is tight under his touch, every muscle clearly restrained as Blaine keeps that breath in and waits. Kurt's smelled boy before in the locker room, smelled it in the curve of Blaine's neck after he sweats, all around him as he sucked Blaine's cock and nosed at his balls, but this is different. This is more elemental, earthier and muskier. It's perfect and so very, very male.

Flattening his tongue, Kurt laves it over Blaine's hole, tasting and feeling. Blaine bucks like he can't help it, something cousin to a whine building high in his throat and losing itself in a register that Blaine can't produce. Even after just the first touch Blaine's breathing has quickened. Using the thumb from before after dampening it with saliva, Kurt gently urges it past the rim before drawing it back in toward his hand, pulling Blaine open enough that he can slip the tip of his tongue in.

It's hot and tight around his tongue, trying to squeeze and constrict around the intrusions, and when Kurt scrapes his teeth lightly against the rim Blaine pushes back against his face with a guttural, needy moan, gasping, "Oh, oh fuck, Kurt. Do that again, please, do it again." Kurt feels proud and just as aroused and licks in earnest, alternating between flattening and pointing his tongue until Blaine is open and pliant and moaning, teeth sunk into the skin of his arm.

Kurt slips in two fingers, spreading and licking as far as he can. Blaine is mewling, shifting his legs and murmuring under his breath, moving his hips like he's seeking friction. Kurt wants more than anything to remove his jeans and wrap a hand around his cock but he's too caught up in the silky smooth feel of Blaine pressing in around his tongue, the intimacy of his actions.

"Fuck me," Blaine groans, like he's not even aware he's saying it. It's broken and ground out and leaves Blaine's lips in a rush. "I need to feel you in me."

Kurt pulls away with a squelch that should be disgusting but is heightened in the moment to nothing short of erotic. He knows he's got saliva down his chin and his cheeks are red and flushed, his lips swollen and the same color, but he can't help but stare at Blaine's back, at the erratic rise and fall of his shoulders as he tries to compose himself. "You want me to..."

"Yes," Blaine says, and it's like their earlier conversation all over again. Blaine props himself up on his arms and swivels his head, fixing hooded hazel eyes on Kurt. "Please, please." He's _begging_, Blaine is begging for Kurt to be in him; he _needs_ Kurt so desperately in this carnal way that he can't help himself and stop the words from coming out.

"I—" Kurt pauses, running his tongue over his lips, tasting _Blaine_, and he wants it, he wants to go the next level, but not now, not on a random Saturday afternoon in the heat of the moment when they're both desperate to get off. He loves Blaine and he wants their first time giving themselves fully to each other to be as special as it possibly can.

"I want to wait, Kurt says softly. "I don't want to do anything when it's just going to be heat of the moment." He leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss on Blaine's left ass cheek. "I love you, Blaine, and I want you just as badly, but you deserve a little more romance."

"Sex is so different," Blaine says, but he sighs in agreement, flipping over onto his back. "But if you want to wait, I'll wait."

Kurt gives him an easy smile and scoots up a little so that he can capture Blaine's lips with his, their noses brushing together when they part. "I promise that I'll make it as good as I can when we do," he whispers, kissing Blaine's eyelids, tasting sweat and skin as he makes his way down his slightly-stubbly cheeks to his damp neck. It's a lot hotter in the room now than it was twenty minutes ago.

"I'll still finger you," he says, making the words as dark and filthy as possible, sucking three fingers into his mouth before gently pressing his index finger to Blaine's wet hole, pushing the digit fully in before slowly adding his middle finger and ring finger. Blaine spreads his legs as much as he can, wrapping a hand around his cock where it lays amongst trimmed dark hair, pre-come beading at the head and leaking onto his stomach.

Kurt twists his fingers, sucking a mark into the soft skin of Blaine's inner thigh, and when Blaine digs his head into the pillow with a whine, pushing down against Kurt's hand, Kurt smiles and brushes his fingers across the little bundle of nerves again. He hasn't really had a lot of time when they're getting each other off before to appreciate the way that Blaine arches, breathes and whines when he's getting close, and now he's taking the time to memorize the tightening of muscles in his thighs, the way he draws his left leg closer to him as he quickens his strokes on his cock.

Blaine's eyes are shut and his left hand is clenching into the covers as his abdomen undulates in a sloppy imitation of the rhythm Kurt's fingers have adopted. His bottom lip is sucked into his mouth and he releases it a few seconds later as he moans, low and long. Kurt feels a squeezing at his chest and he takes his free hand, grasping Blaine's hand and untangling the fingers from the sheets.

Now Blaine's eyes blink open and Kurt smiles, twining their fingers together and resting their interlocked hands on Blaine's raised thigh. "Come for me," he says, pressing a kiss to Blaine's kneecap like he can't get enough, and maybe he can't. "Let go, Blaine." He twists his fingers over each other, spreading and brushing them repeatedly against Blaine's prostate.

"Fuck, Kurt," Blaine gasps, thumbing the head of his cock and raising his hips up, body tensing and shaking as he holds his position, suspended, until he arches his head back, baring the line of his throat, his Adam's apple as he swallows and a moan works its way up and out to permeate the air. "_Oh, oh god_," he keens, and he's coming over his fist and chest, words blurring into noises as he works up into his fist, down onto Kurt's fingers until he slumps back on the bed.

Kurt slides his fingers out and undoes the button of his jeans one-handed. All it takes is the brush of his hand against his cock before he's coming in his boxers with a low moan, hips stuttering forward, and for once he's not even bothered by leaving his jeans to hang loose on his hips and the come to cool sticky in his boxers. doesn't feel like an overeager teenage boy for coming in his pants. It's just the effect that Blaine has on him that he's gotten used to.

He crawls up the bed and collapses next to Blaine, nuzzling against his shoulder. "So," he says conversationally. The endorphins are beginning to leave and the adrenaline's worn down enough that he feels just as awkward as he did before, and even though the mess on Blaine's chest is evidence enough that he's more than capable Kurt still has a hard time believing that it was _him_ that did that.

"You're fantastic and I love you," Blaine says, voice warm and sticky and languid like caramel. "Let's just stay in bed together for the rest of our lives."

Kurt doesn't try to ignore the warm flare in his chest when Blaine says that because he doesn't feel like he'll be getting his hopes up if he does. It means that Blaine's been thinking about a future and while they're still young Kurt has been as well and he can't see anyone other than Blaine in it. Out loud he just laughs and snuggles closer, saying, "That might be a little impossible, Blaine."

"Let's just try," Blaine replies, lifting his head up to look down his torso. "Ugh, maybe not."

"I'll get a washcloth," Kurt says, sitting up and pushing his jeans down to his ankles, kicking them off and debating for a second before sliding his boxers down as well with a wince. He pads into his bathroom, wetting the washcloth that's folded on the sink and grabbing a fresh pair of boxers from his drawer on his way back in.

From across the room Kurt can't help but stare at Blaine, at his arms and legs and the way he looks so peaceful laid out on top of the covers. "Enjoying the view?" Blaine teases when Kurt kneels next to his shoulder, running the warm, damp cloth across his dark skin.

"I could ask you the same thing," Kurt shoots back, laying the washcloth down on the nightstand for the time being. "I felt your eyes on me when I changed." Blaine gives him a mega-watt smile, all teeth and crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"I'm only human, baby."

Kurt maybe falls a little more in love each second.


End file.
